him inside her and the hard, driving rhythm of his body. How perfect it would have been if this was more than just physical. She hated that weak part of herself that longed for more and reminded herself this was all she could ever have.
Roxie shoved aside thoughts of what she could not have and focused on the moment. If this was all there was, then she was not going to waste a moment of it. She met him stroke for stroke, feeling sensation build to the point of madness.
“Now,” she groaned. “Please. Now, now, now.”
Almost before the last two words were out of her mouth, an orgasm ripped through her. Not blossomed, flowered, or flowed. Nothing so tame could describe it. It ripped. Raw and primal, its force had her throwing back her head and screaming.
On and on, one wave after another pounded her. She welcomed it, wanted it, and gave herself completely to it. When at last he slowed his pace, she lifted her head to look at him and was met with an expression hot enough to have her tightening around him.
Beckett worked his feet out of his boots with her still wound around him, then stepped out of his jeans and carried her into the other side of the room. Roxie hung on as he sat down on the couch, the position impaling her fully on his erection.
She grinned and urged him onto his back. The moment he was prone, she braced her hands on his chest and started a rhythm of her own. Slow at first then faster as his eyes darkened and his hands tightened on her thighs.
She could feel him getting close and it drove her higher. She felt him; saw it in his eyes, and that shoved her over the edge. A freefall of overwhelming sensation claimed her as she rode out the storm. When at last reason returned, she lay on him, feeling the rapid beat of his heart and the sweat damp skin hot against her own.
Beckett’s arms circled her, holding her tight despite the heat, his lips gently pressing against her forehead. For several minutes, neither of them moved.
Finally, Roxie sat up, slinging her hair back over her shoulders. Beckett looked up at her, his hands moving to trace along the underside of her breasts.
“So, I guess you no longer have a problem?” she asked.
He shook his head. “More than I started with.”
“More?” She ran her hands over the swell of his chest and down his abdomen to the point their bodies met. The tip of his penis peeked from beneath her, swelling to full erection before she even touched it.
“Much more.”
“Well, then I guess we’re going to have to work on that, aren’t we?”
His response was to pull her down to him. Just before their lips met, he smiled. “Oh yeah, we’re gonna work real hard on it.”
“Yeah?” She grinned, enjoying the easy banter.
“Yep. I’ve got you now.”
Something akin to the kind of adrenaline rush you get when sudden fear strikes bolted through her and the fever of lust vanished.
This was a mistake. A huge mistake. She couldn’t have him thinking this meant she’d stick around. She couldn’t even let herself contemplate the idea. As appealing as it was, staying was not an option. She had to get back on the road, away from here.
Away from him.
Roxie tore free from his arms and scrambled off the couch.
“What’re you doing?” Beckett was clearly puzzled at the abrupt change.
“Leaving.” Her cut-off jeans were intact and she slid them on. Her tank top was ruined, both straps torn, so she snatched up his discarded shirt and quickly put it on.
“Why?” He sat up.
Roxie couldn’t answer. What could she possible say? That she was running because he made her feel things she shouldn’t? Want things she couldn’t have?
She grabbed her boots and fled, taking the back entrance and escaping into the alley behind the bar. From there, it was a short run to her room at the boarding house. She locked her door and flung herself on the bed.
She’d made a terrible mistake and didn’t know how to undo it. Sure, she could probably get a bus ticket out
Roxie shoved aside thoughts of what she could not have and focused on the moment. If this was all there was, then she was not going to waste a moment of it. She met him stroke for stroke, feeling sensation build to the point of madness.
“Now,” she groaned. “Please. Now, now, now.”
Almost before the last two words were out of her mouth, an orgasm ripped through her. Not blossomed, flowered, or flowed. Nothing so tame could describe it. It ripped. Raw and primal, its force had her throwing back her head and screaming.
On and on, one wave after another pounded her. She welcomed it, wanted it, and gave herself completely to it. When at last he slowed his pace, she lifted her head to look at him and was met with an expression hot enough to have her tightening around him.
Beckett worked his feet out of his boots with her still wound around him, then stepped out of his jeans and carried her into the other side of the room. Roxie hung on as he sat down on the couch, the position impaling her fully on his erection.
She grinned and urged him onto his back. The moment he was prone, she braced her hands on his chest and started a rhythm of her own. Slow at first then faster as his eyes darkened and his hands tightened on her thighs.
She could feel him getting close and it drove her higher. She felt him; saw it in his eyes, and that shoved her over the edge. A freefall of overwhelming sensation claimed her as she rode out the storm. When at last reason returned, she lay on him, feeling the rapid beat of his heart and the sweat damp skin hot against her own.
Beckett’s arms circled her, holding her tight despite the heat, his lips gently pressing against her forehead. For several minutes, neither of them moved.
Finally, Roxie sat up, slinging her hair back over her shoulders. Beckett looked up at her, his hands moving to trace along the underside of her breasts.
“So, I guess you no longer have a problem?” she asked.
He shook his head. “More than I started with.”
“More?” She ran her hands over the swell of his chest and down his abdomen to the point their bodies met. The tip of his penis peeked from beneath her, swelling to full erection before she even touched it.
“Much more.”
“Well, then I guess we’re going to have to work on that, aren’t we?”
His response was to pull her down to him. Just before their lips met, he smiled. “Oh yeah, we’re gonna work real hard on it.”
“Yeah?” She grinned, enjoying the easy banter.
“Yep. I’ve got you now.”
Something akin to the kind of adrenaline rush you get when sudden fear strikes bolted through her and the fever of lust vanished.
This was a mistake. A huge mistake. She couldn’t have him thinking this meant she’d stick around. She couldn’t even let herself contemplate the idea. As appealing as it was, staying was not an option. She had to get back on the road, away from here.
Away from him.
Roxie tore free from his arms and scrambled off the couch.
“What’re you doing?” Beckett was clearly puzzled at the abrupt change.
“Leaving.” Her cut-off jeans were intact and she slid them on. Her tank top was ruined, both straps torn, so she snatched up his discarded shirt and quickly put it on.
“Why?” He sat up.
Roxie couldn’t answer. What could she possible say? That she was running because he made her feel things she shouldn’t? Want things she couldn’t have?
She grabbed her boots and fled, taking the back entrance and escaping into the alley behind the bar. From there, it was a short run to her room at the boarding house. She locked her door and flung herself on the bed.
She’d made a terrible mistake and didn’t know how to undo it. Sure, she could probably get a bus ticket out
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